Top dog? Bite me!
By Charlie Madigan
cmadigan@tribune.com
Tribune  senior correspondent
Published February 16, 2005, 11:41 AM CST

CHICAGO  -- Now it's time to do something here on the Internet I swore
I would never  do in the newspaper because it's such an immense
cliche. I am going to write  about my dog. My top dog.

Actually, it's your top dog and everyone else's  top dog who has a dog.

Whatever dog you have has to be the top dog. It's  the unwritten part
of the dog-human contract.

Word arrived that the  Westminster Kennel Club had decided that a
German shorthaired pointer named  Carlee was America's top dog.

Let me say this about that.

"Bite  me, Carlee and the Westminster Kennel Club!"

I own the top dog.

He  is a mutt. My last dog was a mutt. The dog before that was a mutt
and the  first dog was a mutt, too.

I have had 34 years` worth of mutts and all  but one of them is gone.
Their ashes sit in nice little cans or pots on a  bookshelf. Every
once in a while, one of the containers catches my eye and I  find
myself saying, "That was a great dog," even about the one who was
crazy  as an outhouse rat. The first one, who went to live with the
mailman when  I moved to Russia long ago, seemed to understand nothing
but peeing  and chewing up apartment quarter round, which he
meticulously removed  and diligently placed in piles. He lived a long
and happy life on a  farm.

I am writing this not because I have anything against Carlee and  the
Westminster Kennel Club. Those are beautifully kept and  well-trained
dogs, the top of the pyramid of American dogs in some  ways.

But they are really no better than a vast collection of other  dogs.

If the Westminster Kennel Club is one side of the world of dogs,  the
other side, by far the sadder side, is all around us, no matter  where
we live. Head on over to the local humane society or dog pound  and
there you see them, lined up in cages, many dogs caught in a  hopeless
bind because they don't seem cute, don't seem puppy like, don't  seem
pretty.

This then, is something like a Rambling Gleaner public  service message.

Don't forget about those dogs. The inclination may be to  run out and
buy a German shorthaired pointer because Carlee looks so lovely.
Fight that thought for a bit.

I think we should have a contest, a  reality-based contest, for those
other dogs. It should all be televised,  elimination rounds and
whatnot until we find the perfect animal shelter  dog.

That dog would get to go home with someone.

Everyone else in  the contest would be put down by injection, right
then and there on  television so we could all watch. Did you ever have
to do that, put a dog  down? There are harder things, I suspect, but
not many. The feeling stays  with you quite awhile, and then you start
to understand what being with this  dog, this top dog, really meant.

That plan for a contest sounds harsh,  doesn't it?

Actually, a day doesn't pass without that kind of event  playing out
someplace. Some pup wins the affection contest and goes home, and
some other dog doesn't and moves, in many cases, one slot closer to
the needle. It's not televised, but you can rest assured that. in a
lot  of places, that's exactly what happens.

Not all pounds execute dogs,  of course. Some try to take care of them
or life. It's a nice thought until  you march along the rows of pens
and look into the dog eyes and see some of  them staring back. What's
in there? I don't know, but it doesn't seem very  happy. There may
well be no bad dogs. From some of them, though, you can know  for sure
there are bad people who once had them. Now, in many cases, those
dogs are going to live and die in a cage.

Should you run out and get a  dog now?

I don't know. That depends on how you feel about having  furniture
chewed up, puddles on the floor, little piles of dog log surprises
and lawn bass until you get that training thing worked out and  the
obligation to take interest in something that can speak, at best,
only
with its eyes.

Obviously, too many people went out and got dogs  and didn't live up
to their part of the deal, which is why so many of them  sit around in
pounds waiting either for a final moment or for kindly  visitors.

It's just something to keep in mind when you look at Carlee,  a
spectacular dog by anyone's measure.

They are all  spectacular.

But most of them are never going to hear someone say, "Top  Dog! Right here!"